Do Not Trouble Trouble
by Sheltie-chan
Summary: What happens when Clyde cannot stand it anymore? Sequel to "A Day in Life of Tweek" by Cherry Champagne and "Lessons of Love" by me, Clyde's POV, hints of Slash, Creek, Domestic Abuse


**Author's notes: "Do not trouble trouble until the trouble troubles you". Confusing, huh? xD I know it sucks, I just couldn't come up with anything better, though, unless I wanted it to be called "Lessons of Love 2". That would suck even more xD**

**This is a sequel to "A Day in Life of Tweek" by Cherry Champagne**** or "Lessons of Love" by me****. ****Clyde's point of view.**

**So, enjoy this short fic which I thought up on my way home today ^^**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Clyde, Tweek, Craig nor South Park. Includes hints of slash and domestic abuse.**

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Who is the stupidest person you know? Sadly, if anyone asked me right now, my answer would have to be almost tragically clear and definite: it's me. Why? Okay, let's start when the story begins.

That night, Tweek came to me just as late as always. He was still sobbing quietly, rubbing the tears away with his already soaked sleeve, glistening with two kinds of different liquids. I opened the door sooner than he got to it, having seen him through the kitchen window few seconds ago, and waited for him, stepping out of his way when he finally stumbled over the threshold. I offered him a hand, and when he grasped it, I lead him into the kitchen. I sat him on a stool and left, telling him to wait for me, fetching the first aid kid from the bathroom quickly.

Just like million times before, I checked his head for any bruises or bloody injuries, asking him what it was this time. He just shrugged me off with simple "I got Craig angry again", but I insisted on him telling me more, telling me details. By the time I got to his shoulders, where was a new livid mark waiting for me among the stitches from few nights ago, I knew Tweek screwed up the dinner again, and Craig had almost smothered him, hadn't he noticed his face had turned blue with the lack of air. When I started to undress his shirt, though, he passed out. I froze with fear for a second, but being already used to it as I was, I quickly regained my composure, scooped him up and carried those few meters to sofa, where I laid him. I was already breathing little more heavily than usually, but I didn't pay attention to that. I quickly inspected him some more, finding some new hickeys and bruises, but no broken bones this time. The only one, in his leg, was still wrapped in the gypsum bandage from the last week.

I have to admit, things got quite out of the hand lately, the wounds were getting more serious and I was getting more worried, but I didn't pay much attention to it - since I was in risk of losing my job, it always flew out of my head almost instantly as Tweek left and I hurried back to the computer to finish the tasks for my job. This time, though, I felt like I _had_ to do something. Maybe it was because of those three holes graven in the back of Tweek's hand, continuing through his palm as well, which were giving me a slight hint about what had happened back at Craig's and how there were holes just like that dug into their kitchen table, but the pieces somehow clicked together and I was overcome by the sudden urge to do something. Something to prevent my friend from hurting some more, from being wounded like this, from being beaten up almost every day by the person he loved the most.

I don't remember picking up my cell phone and dialing 911, nor speaking to the dispatcher. However, there is a clear picture of his bloody hand in my mind as I lifted it and started to bandage it. I remember his fingers paralyzed by the cramp; the tool must have hit a nerve. I hoped he would be alright again soon.

I realized he would not just when I was sitting in the police cruiser while being transported to the station after the ambulance had taken Tweek to the hospital. I was not allowed to stay with him, but then again, he was legal, and I was not married to him neither was I one of his closest family to accompany him there. My satisfaction should have been provided by the record I was to fill at the station.

That night when Craig decided to leave the house to get Tweek back, he was greeted by a bunch of cops right at his door. He was only allowed to lock it and then was escorted right to the local station to the preventive custody.

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Soon after this incident, Craig was found guilty in re of battery and was put in a jail for few days and fined, also obliged to pay for the ambulance drive. However, he could have not been accused of domestic abuse because Tweek wasn't a member of opposite sex. I am also glad that they weren't aware of what could have been called "rape" in any but their relationship. I hadn't told them many details. I am glad I didn't.

Today, I am going to see Craig. It is going to be a difficult task, with me being the one who reported him, and if he was free I am sure I wouldn't survive long enough to finish my speech. Now I see the jail makes few things easier to do, at least.

As I drive, I think about what to tell him, repeating various scenarios in my head to see which one fits the best. I don't really pay attention to the road and thus I am happy that I am lucky enough to not run into some drunken idiot today, and arrive to the prison sound and safe. I pass the check at the entrance, asking for some information about my friend's whereabouts, and continue in said direction. Fear is the feeling that resides in my chest, but I'm trying to push it away with the resistance, defiance. I did not do any mistake, I do not have to hang my head. I enter the visiting room with my head high, finding the seat opposite to Craig's and sitting down.

"Hey there," I greet. Fear starts to reappear inside of me, and I'm not able to push it back this time.

"Hi," Craig looks at me with cold eyes, hatred not quite hidden in the glare. "I wonder how comes you still dare show up around here after what you did."

"Well, I came to _visit_ you, maybe?" my answer is cold, too. "I can leave immediately if you don't want to know anything new," I add. We both know Tweek is the purpose of this conversation.

"Go on, and then fuck off."

"He is still in the hospital."

"It is not because of me, though." He knows his injuries weren't severe enough to keep him in hospital room for that long.

"No. He tried to commit suicide after he found out you were arrested." I better tell him right off the bat. Sooner I do, sooner I'm off.

"I'm gonna kill you, bastard. Remember that. I don't fucking mind how many times he runs crying to you, thinking you'd save him, but if he gets himself killed 'cuz of you being fucking stupid, you are dead meat."

I nod once, fully aware of that. The jackass may be beating the poor kid to death himself, but if anyone lays a finger on him, he murder them, getting all protective all of sudden. Anyways, I feel like this was the right time to fuck off.

I stand up, brushing non-existent dirt off my jacket and then looking back up at him. I know that unless Tweek finds himself truly dead, he will always go back to Craig. I don't know why I called the police back then since I know that this is just how it is and I can't change it, no matter how hard I try to protect my friend from his lover. In the end, it would be me hurting him some more. I won't do it again, I promised myself, but I couldn't spare one last sentence for Craig:

"You know, the boy wanted you to be there when he jumped. I'll probably never understand how he even cares after all you've put him through." I suppress the urge to spit in his face, turn on my heel and walk away, out where the sun is shining and people are treating each other worse than they do treat majority of animals.


End file.
